


Floor Show

by sparrow2000



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-07 18:01:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1908534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparrow2000/pseuds/sparrow2000
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Season seven one-shot - Xander has a beer at the Bronze</p>
            </blockquote>





	Floor Show

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: innuendo and underage drinking  
> Disclaimer: Joss and Mutant Enemy et al own all. I own nothing.  
> Beta extraordinaire: thismaz  
> Comments are cuddled and called George
> 
> I'm catching up posting some of my older stuff. This was written for tamingthemuse back in 2007

There were nights when Xander wished Sunnydale had a bigger choice of clubs. The Bronze was usually the place to be but, just now and again, it really bugged him. He couldn’t put his finger on why; it just happened from time to time. And tonight was definitely one of those times.

Maybe it was because the doorman was the same one who’d caught him with the false ID when he was 18. On reflection, the pencilled on moustache hadn’t looked very real. Maybe it was because he no longer thought the ‘post fumigation’ party was the highlight of the year - when you’d seen one dead roach, you’d seen them all and somehow the magic wasn’t there anymore. Maybe he was just bored and looking for something to blame. All he knew was, that tonight, he just he felt old. He’d gone to the washroom and found himself tutting at the levels of literacy on the graffiti. At least he’d known that ‘fuck’ had a ‘c’ in it, when he was in 10th grade. But hey, Marty still ‘luurvved’ Cassie, so that was cool, but the doodle next to the inscription looked anatomically impossible, even if you looked at it kind of sideways and squinted.

Sighing, he took another long pull on his beer and wondered for the God-knows-what time, why coming here had seemed like a good idea. Oh yeah – girls, lots and lots of girls, but not the ‘hey honey, come to papa and he’ll give you a tour’ type of girl, more of the ‘don’t look at me that way, or I’ll break your arm, and by the way, it’s my turn for the bathroom’ type of girl. Slayers, love ‘em or hate ‘em, one thing he’d learned early on, is that you don’t argue with them. So, oh yeah, that’s why he was here, being a sad sack at the Bronze on his own.

A sudden noise caught his attention and he turned towards the pool table, two stoner boys were trying to rack up for a new game and failing miserably. How difficult could it be to get a mess of balls into a little wooden triangle, but they were definitely struggling. Kind of living proof that genes will always out and that large quantities of pot did nothing for co-ordination, even if did make the world kind of mellow round the edges. Both wore faded Red Hot Chilli Peppers T-shirts and jeans with the crotch somewhere down at their knees, and the smaller of the two had the tiniest wisp of hair on his chin, which had obvious dreams of being a goatee when it grew up.

His eyes drifted past the boys and on to the end of the table, where a tall, blonde girl was chalking up a cue. Looking at her, with the experienced eye of a man who’d been around far too many women, Xander reckoned that she was probably about 18, although she looked about 22. He’d noticed her briefly at the bar, when he’d first come in, and knew she hadn’t been carded - it was amazing what flashing a bit of cleavage and thigh could do, and looking at the low cut halter top and the pelmet masquerading as a skirt, he'd wondered idly if she shopped at the same place as Buffy. 

The girl tossed her dirty-blonde hair back out of her eyes and looked at the two boys coquettishly, as she picked up the first of three shot glasses lined on the cushion at the end of the table and downed them in quick succession. Xander noticed there were another three, sitting like soldiers, on the other cushion. This girl was taking no prisoners; she had reinforcements at the ready. 

She stood for a moment letting the liquor do its work and then quite deliberately leaned over the table and let the two boys have an eyeful of creamy white flesh. Scarlet nails scraped lightly on green baize as the boys stared at her like a snake to a charmer. “Oh yeah”, she drawled and Xander had to give her 10 points for delivery, “That’s what I’m talking about. All hail the great god, José Cuervo. I have seen the light and I am going to kick your ass.” She paused for a moment, then pushed herself upright and picked up her cue and Xander thought the stoners were going to faint there and then as she pushed it back and forward through the circle of her finger and thumb. “Then boys, if you’re very, very good we’ll play a different type of game.” The girl shimmied past them; going so much closer than she had to given the space between the pool table and the wall, and the shorter boy almost took his eye out with his own cue as she trailed her fingers across the back of his neck. 

Xander had to put his beer back on the bar before he dropped it as he started to laugh, silently, at the look on the boy’s face. God, had he ever been that young? Had he ever been so gauche and gawky and awkward? Had he ever had a tongue so long, you could clean the floor without getting down on your knees? Oh yeah, he’d been there and he had the scars to prove it.

She bent over to line up the shot and her skirt rode a little higher. There was a clatter of balls and bingo, bottom pocket and she was on a roll. She worked her way round the table picking off ball after ball and the boys didn’t look like they cared. They just watched the rise and flex of her hip and the curve of her breast, where another button had come undone, and they handed her another tequila when she crooked her finger.

For a brief moment, Xander toyed with the idea of cutting in; of playing the mysterious older man and turning the tables for a while. But he remembered what it was like to be that age, to sit with Jesse and talk about Cordelia and her gang and wonder what it would be like to touch a girl. So he just ordered another beer and settled back on his bar stool. The boys were on a promise, and for now Xander was content just to watch the show.


End file.
